


Steady Hands

by TerrifiedAristocrat



Category: AFK Arena (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Begging, Body Worship, M/M, Massage, Moist Liches Are Happy Liches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-11 17:40:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19931932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TerrifiedAristocrat/pseuds/TerrifiedAristocrat
Summary: Periodically, graveborn require oiling. The only kind of hands Kelthur will accept on his body are steady ones.





	Steady Hands

**Author's Note:**

> The oil used is not pure oil but it has essential oils in a carrier oil. Putting straight essential oils on skin can cause problems, remember! Always practice safe oiling, even if you aren't a lich.

In the end, graveborn gravitated towards each other.

There was a pull, something etched into bones, something still remaining from their time as a human that called out to them, that ached at being alone. Kelthur felt it, even though he was unwilling to let people back into his heart after what had happened-

 _(“Please call me mother,” she had said, her voice full of saccharine lies. She insisted on it, until her stomach was round with his father’s child-_ )

-but there was no other option, really. The ache of being alone was far stronger than the fear or being hurt. After all, pain was alright to Kelthur, he could handle pain. After being framed for the murder of his father, no pain on earth could compare.

That’s what Kelthur told himself, a silent mantra in his head as he stood in front of the door to a particular graveborn’s room. If he was going to put himself into another’s hands, that person’s hands best be capable. Judging by Ferael’s aim and skill in archery, his hands were the best.

Also, Ferael was very attractive. Kelthur kept this little thought to himself, swallowing an anxious lump in his throat before knocking on Ferael’s door.

After a few minutes, the door creaked open. Ferael stood in the doorway, his mask and hood concealing most of his face. Kelthur understood the desire to hide- he felt overexposed, his skin stretched over bones painfully tight and thin.

“Yes? What do you need?” Ferael asked, leaning against the doorframe as if an unseen someone was taking pictures of him. It was unfair. Kelthur resisted the urge to fidget.

“I am new to this graveborn business-”

“I can tell. I have no idea who you are,” Ferael remarked. Kelthur made a face.

“Kelthur Plaguegrip,” he introduced, finding it easier to talk once he got started. “I’m looking for someone to help with the oiling business,”

Ferael blinked at Kelthur, his face otherwise unreadable.

“And you chose me?” he asked after a moment’s silence.

“You have capable hands,” Kelthur explained, straight faced. “I’ve seen you shoot.”

“Have you now?” Ferael stood up straight, the motion smooth and slow like a serpent’s. He then began to circle Kelthur, keeping a slow pace, eyes flitting up and down Kelthur’s form. Kelthur did not let himself show intimidation, staring straight ahead at the dark slice of Ferael’s room that was exposed to the hall. “I haven’t seen you do anything?”

Kelthur waited for a moment, for Ferael to walk to his right side before summoning his shuriken and using it to slam Ferael into the nearest wall, two blades trapping Ferael’s head harmlessly between them. Ferael went very still, which was equal parts enjoyable and distressing.

“Ah, sorry,” he muttered, beginning to dislodge the shuriken from the wall. “I did not mean to threaten you, I simply wanted to show my prowess-”

“Consider your prowess shown,” Ferael drawled, his lips curling into a slow smile. “That was hot. Did you bring oil?”

Kelthur’s brain short-circuited at that very moment and he froze in the middle of dislodging his shuriken. Hot? Oil? What? Kelthur shook his head and snapped his fingers, the shuriken dissolving in green-tinged shadow.

“I did not,” he explained carefully. Ferael stepped very close to him, leaning into his personal space and examining him with brightly glowing green eyes.

“Then you’ll have to use mine,” he murmured, sidestepping Kelthur and strutting into his room. He glanced over his shoulder after a moment. “Are you coming?”

“Yes, of course,” Kelthur nodded, following Ferael into his private quarters and shutting the door behind him.

Ferael’s quarters were dimly lit, but there was enough light for Kelthur to follow Ferael through what looked like a living room and into his bedroom. The implication of all that Kelthur was asking for hit him rather suddenly and while Kelthur knew that a man of his breeding should really court someone before letting them touch his body, there was an ache in his chest that needed to be filled, and the sway of Ferael’s hips as he walked was quite pleasant to watch.

“You said I had capable hands... was that the only thing that drew you to me?” Ferael asked suddenly, turning and tipping Kelthur’s chin up with two fingers. Kelthur hadn’t realized he could blush while being dead, but in a perverse way enjoyed his the tops of his cheeks tingled.

“You also are attractive,” Kelthur admitted, “although the steadiness of your hands is what drew me to you,”

“That’s the second time you’ve mentioned that,” Ferael commented, smoothing his hand along Kelthur’s jawline in a way that made Kelthur want to tip his head back, to show his neck in a sign of submissiveness. He frowned a little, resisting the urge.

“A steady hand is the difference between life or death,” Kelthur remarked.

“Yes, well, we’re both already dead,” Ferael pointed out. Kelthur’s expression soured. “Ah, still sensitive hm?”

“Please do not tease me,” Kelthur jerked his head out of Ferael’s hand in a quick motion.

“I’m not teasing,” Ferael said simply, placing his hand on Kelthur’s shoulder instead of chasing his jaw. “I’m simply stating a fact. Newly raised graveborn chase any kind of sensation they can. I need to know how gentle to be with you,”

“Gentle?” Kelthur repeated, not understanding.

“I’ll show you,” Ferael untied his cloak and dropped it delicately in a hamper. Green flames flickered to life in candles that surrounded a modestly sized bed. Kelthur wasn’t interested in the candles, he was interested in Ferael.

As Ferael removed his tunic, Kelthur suddenly understood. He had stitches stretching across his skin like someone had torn into him. Aside from that, he was lithe and well muscled, a trim waist accenting touchable hips. Kelthur’s eyes dragged up Ferael’s torso to his face, noticing that his mask was still on and stepping closer, slowly. Ferael stood in place and Kelthur reached up to touch Ferael’s jawline, mirroring Ferael’s earlier action.

“Why do you wear a mask?” he asked.

“My looks are what got me killed,” Ferael replied.

“I’m not going to kill you,” Kelthur said softly. “Those who I seek to kill have already been slain by my hands,” Ferael’s lips curled into another one of those smiles, something full of heat and secrets.

“Did you enjoy it?” Ferael asked softly. “Killing those who wronged you?”

“Not immensely,” Kelthur replied, half-shrugging. “It was a job that needed to be done. I leave no job unfinished,”

“How thorough. I like that in a man,” Ferael chuckled, something low that thundered across Kelthur’s skin and made him shudder. “How do you feel about cedar?”

“As in, the wood?” Kelthur asked, thrown off by the change in topic.

“As in, the scent. I have cedar oil and I have ginger oil and I have a blend,” Ferael explained, walking around Kelthur towards the bed. Without his cloak on, Kelthur got a nice look at Ferael’s ass and realized at that moment, dying was worth it.

“I’ll try the blend,” Kelthur offered.

“Good choice, that’s my favorite,” Ferael walked around his bed to a cupboard and pulled out a dark bottle, walking back over to Kelthur slowly and handing it over. “Since you asked, I’ll have you oil me up first,”

“Fair enough,” Kelthur agreed. Ferael paused and softly ran the backs of his fingers across Kelthur’s hair. “You may want to tie this up. Let me get you a spare hair tie,”

“Oh, right,” Kelthur nodded, squeezing the bottle of oil in his hand to reassure himself. While he didn’t know how to really do any of this, the thought of running his hands along Ferael’s chest and torso was tantalizing. Ferael interrupted Kelthur’s train of thought by tucking a hair tie into his hand, his own hair done up in a bun. That was a bit of a shame- Kelthur liked it spilling over Ferael’s neck and shoulders. Kelthur sighed and tied his own hair up.

With a bit of a smirk, Ferael laid back on his bed in a smooth motion. Kelthur realized while he’d been spacing, Ferael had taken off his boots and breeches, revealing long and thin legs that were also nicely muscled with a soft stitched scar here and there. There was one along Ferael’s upper thigh that Kelthur wanted very badly to touch, but he knew he was here for more pressing matters- oiling Ferael.

Kelthur always finished the tasks given to him.

He poured a small amount of oil onto his palm and capped the bottle carefully, setting it aside. Habitually Kelthur rubbed his hands together like he was getting ready to shampoo his hair, causing a few drops to drip onto Ferael’s thigh. Kelthur shifted so he was straddling Ferael’s hips without touching, the only contact being his palms as they smoothed across Ferael’s chest. Ferael hummed and leaned into the touch as Kelthur’s hands, an action that sent thrills across Kelthur’s skin. Kelthur moved his hands slowly in circular motions, inhaling the spicy combination of cedar and ginger that was just shy of overwhelming, riding Kelthur’s senses on a tight and pleasant line.

“Go harder,” Ferael ordered. “Don’t be so gentle,”

Kelthur paused and then resumed his massage, digging his fingers further into Ferael’s muscle and relishing in his groan. Emboldened, Kelthur worked at the muscles along Ferael’s shoulders and neck, where the archer carried most of his tension. Ferael moaned lowly, squirming slightly under Kelthur’s touch. That in itself was an intoxicating sight that sent a bloom of heat in Kelthur’s gut. In the back of his head, Kelthur knew that this was what brought him to Ferael’s door- a need to touch, and to be touched. A need to feel something pushing, pressing against him.

Kelthur hadn’t realized until that moment that he was properly straddling Ferael’s hips at this point, and certainly feeling something touch him. Ferael froze.

“Too much?” he asked.

“No,” Kelthur replied, shaking his head. “Sit up though. I want to do your back,”

“You’ll get oil on your shirt,” Ferael pointed out. Kelthur shrugged.

“I recently picked these clothes out. I do not care what happens to them,” he muttered. “Except the scarf,”

“Best take that off first then,” Ferael murmured, sitting up halfway and using one hand to support himself, the other to gently unwind Kelthur’s scarf. As he drew closer, more of Kelthur’s shirt came off until he was totally topless and Fearael was sitting upright, their noses bumping. Kelthur impulsively leaned in and kissed Ferael, pleasantly surprised when the other male kissed him back.

“Mm, you’re a good kisser,” Ferael murmured as Kelthur reapplied more oil to his hands and started rubbing Ferael’s back.

“I’ve done this before,” Kelthur replied softly, catching a strong whiff of ginger off of Ferael’s neck and rolling the scent along his tongue before kissing Ferael’s throat. There was a scar across his throat, stitched in a more haphazard way than any other stitch on Ferael’s body and Kelthur made sure he kissed every inch of it. He liked the way Ferael’s breath hitched when he did this and began to softly nibble at the skin. Kelthur’s teeth were now sharper than they ever were as a human, which took a little getting used to. Ferael hissed.

“Too much?” Kelthur asked against Ferael’s skin.

“Not enough,” Ferael rumbled back. “Harder,”

“I’ll make you bleed,” Kelthur pointed out.

“Good,” Ferael retorted, rolling his hips against Kelthur’s pointedly.Kelthur chuckled breathily and rubbed himself against the growing bulge under Ferael’s briefs. Kelthur pressed his lips to the junction between Ferael’s neck and shoulder, sinking his teeth into Ferael’s skin and feeling it split under him slowly, savoring the burst of bitter copper combining with ginger and cedar, filling his senses. Ferael laughed shakily, running dry hands down Kelthur’s back and slipping greedy fingers under the waistband of Kelthur’s slacks. Kelthur pulled away from Ferael’s skin and watched his wound heal, feeling a little disappointed.

“Do you want my pants off?” he asked.

“Yep. Lift your hips,” Ferael ordered. Kelthur placed his slick hands on Ferael’s bed and lifted his hips, allowing Ferael to pull his pants down. Ferael paused at Kelthur’s undergarments- panties, lace lined with a functional bowtie just above Kelthur’s erection straining through the fabric. “What’s this?”

“Those would be panties,” Kelthur replied, managing to keep a straight face. He even looked Ferael in the eye, daring him to say anything further. The look on Ferael’s face wasn’t insulting, but downright hungry. He pulled Kelthur’s pants off (with some help) an groped around for the bottle of oil. Instead of the conservative method Kelthur employed, Ferael undid the cap and drew a slow line of oil across Kelthur’s chest, letting it drip down his torso.

“I’m going to ruin them,” Ferael remarked casually, closing the bottle of oil and simply watching the oil roll across Kelthur’s stomach lazily. “I’m going to ruin you,”

“Promise?” Kelthur asked, raising an eyebrow. Ferael laughed and ran a finger through the oil, tracing a hot line down Kelthur’s stomach and down his aching cock.

“You asked me not to tease you earlier,” Ferael remarked, not answering Kelthur’s question and dragging an oil slicked finger over the fabric of Kelthur’s panties. “Is this kind of teasing acceptable?”

“I-” Kelthur’s train of thought completely derailed as Ferael rubbed his slit affectionately. “If you tease me, accept the consequences,” he growled lowly.

“Consequences?” Ferael tipped his head curiously. Kelthur met his gaze, tightened his legs around Ferael’s waist and pushed him down on his own bed, kissing him harshly. “Oh I like these consequences,”

“Do you now?” Kelthur murmured against Ferael’s lips, nipping at his lower lip. He could feel Ferael shudder under him, and having that kind of power over another person was incredibly intoxicating. Kelthur rolled his hips harshly against Ferael’s, feeling oil soaking through his panties. Everything tasted of cedar and ginger, so much that it almost clouded Kelthur’s vision. Kelthur’s vision cleared when Ferael reached up and grabbed his face again, stroking his cheek slowly with slick fingers.

“Fuck me,” he ordered breathily.

“Only if you take off your mask,” Kelthur replied. Ferael paused for a moment, and then eased the mask off of his face, giving Kelthur a good look at it. He’d been wrong- Ferael wasn’t very attractive. He was fucking gorgeous. Kelthur licked his lips slowly and went about the process of getting Ferael out of his briefs- something made more difficult given how slippery the two of them were. Once those were out of the way, the general abundance of oil made fingering Ferael a lot easier than it would have been otherwise. Kelthur pumped his fingers into Ferael slowly, ignoring any and all pleas to speed things up. For all the big talk Ferael did earlier, Kelthur wanted to pull him apart.

It wasn’t until Ferael snapped his hips against Kelthur’s fingers (he was up to two now) and cried out-

“P-please, more Kelthur,dammit!”

-that Kelthur had something like mercy on Ferael and increased his pace. At three fingers he had Ferael rutting into his hand in a quite satisfactory way, so he pulled them out and began to oil up his own neglected cock, pushing his useless panties to the side. He half expected Ferael to complain about the lack of stimulation, but Ferael simply propped himself up on his elbows shakily and watched Kelthur, that hungry look in his eyes again that was as searing to Kelthur’s nerves as his own hand on his cock.

“Condoms?” Kelthur asked mildly.

“Bedside table,” Ferael replied, sounding surprised. Kelthur nodded and very carefully crawled over to the table, knocking over the bottle of oil (luckily the cap was on) in the process. After some fumbling, Kelthur managed to procure one condom from Ferael’s nightstand (doing his best to ignore the actual hunk of ginger wrapped in waxed paper in the same drawer). Ferael watched him sharply as Kelthur rolled the condom on his cock, ran a hand up his own chest to gather some more oil and slicked himself thoroughly. Once Kelthur was aware that Ferael was watching him, he made a point of slowing each motion down, keeping his face blank even though he knew he had a healthy blush running down his chest. Once satisfied, Kelthur went about fucking Ferael.

For the first time that evening, Kelthur moaned. He had no illusions about being able to maintain control- once he sank inside Ferael something snapped in the back of Kelthur’s head and his only goal was _more more more_. Kelthur thrust into Ferael at the rough pace he’d begged for earlier, hooking his arms around Ferael’s shoulders to keep him from slamming into his headboard. Ferael’s hands scratched at Kelthur’s back feverishly, callouses rasping against slick skin and fingernails biting without drawing blood.

Recalling earlier, Kelthur bit Ferael’s shoulder again harshly. Ferael’s head snapped back and he moaned something that almost sounded like a growl as he came. Kelthur felt Ferael slowly relax as he continued thrusting into him, riding out his own orgasm and leaving quite a few marks on Ferael’s shoulder. It was almost a pity they healed so quickly...

Once done, Kelthur rolled off of Ferael and groaned softly, a delightful buzz in his bones from his orgasm. This was more intense than it had been with Balthazar- then again, Balthazar was an easily swayed fool who was the first to condemn Kelthur for his supposed murder of his father, so there wasn’t much to say there.

“You’re frowning. What’s wrong?” Ferael asked.

“Hm?” Kelthur turned to face Ferael. “Oh. I was thinking about my last lover,” his face twisted into a grimace.

“I hope I’m better,” Ferael remarked.

“You are,” Kelthur replied, patting Ferael’s thigh assuringly. Ferael leaned over and kissed Kelthur warmly, amazingly still tasting of ginger. Kelthur kissed back, humming pleasantly. He could sure get accustomed to the taste of ginger, after all. 


End file.
